The Hospital Room
by Ana Mei
Summary: After they are injuried in battle, Duo and Quatre spend a few days in the hospital recovering, rearranging their thoughts, and becoming 'closer.' But who is this nurse who only comes in their room at night? (2x4)(finished!)(R and R please!)
1. Beginnings in Gray

[[[You all know that I don't own Gundam Wing. Is there really a purpose of saying it? Oh well = I SO do not own Gundam Wing. There.  
  
WARNING: I really find no purpose for this either, but I thought it might be 'polite' to warn you that this fan-fiction contains shounen ai (male homosexual activity), and anyone bothered by this can go away. I DO NOT believe that the G-boys are gay!!!!! This is a fan FICTION.  
  
Also, as the chapters go on, there are some, I dunno, 'graphic' scenes of violence. It's not too bad but anyone who is used to Cartoon Network cutting out the blood from the fight scenes should probably not read this. Thank you, and now for my *second* Gundam Wing fan fic: The Hospital Room]]]  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Two hours ago, the forest had been sleeping peacefully in the dark night, its tree tops bathing contently in the light of the waning moon. Now, however, its peace was rudely interrupted by heavy footsteps and destructive explosions. The forest had, unwillingly, become a battlefield.  
  
On this battlefield, five young soldiers fought, on the same side yet as separate pieces, in specialized mobile suits called Gundams.  
  
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Inside his gundam, his hands motionless on the controls, Quatre blinked in disbelief. He was not sure that what he just witnessed on his front screen was real, or could ever be real. Before his very eyes, his team-mate, his good friend, had just taken (for the third time that night) a direct shot from an enemy suit. And had fallen without any response.  
  
Instinctly, he called out his friend's name and attempted to make contact with his cockpit.  
  
"Duo!" he gasped, tapping the button to link through the inter-Gundam communication system. "Duo, do you copy?"  
  
Quatre waited without breathing, staring at the spot where Deathscythe had vanished beneath the trees, and giving the enemy an open shot at his own suit. Sandrock lurched and fell, its shoulder sparking threateningly.  
  
As his suit hit the forest floor, Quatre's head made contact with the hard backing of the cockpit, shooting blank spots into his vision. He reached his hand back to caress the mishandled area of his head, but twitched it back at the feeling of warm liquid.  
  
"Damnit," a small voice croaked through the communication system, the video window labeled 02 a curtain of fuzz. Duo's curse echoed Quatre's feelings as he could now feel the warm blood slowly creeping down the back of his head.  
  
"Are you alright, Duo?" Quatre muttered, struggling to keep from wincing at the pain pounding in his head. A constant storm of laser beams and bright explosions flashed in the air above where he lay.  
  
Duo's screen remained blank.  
  
Resolute to not let his own pain force selfishness upon him at this crucial time, Quatre made his arms reach the controls of his Gundam. Sandrock slowly reached its knees as its pilot inwardly screamed in pain.  
  
Quatre looked up just in time to see two Gundams soar past his own and gracefully decapitate and disembowel two opposing Leo suits.  
  
"Quatre," Heero said, a video of the inside of Wing Zero's cockpit materializing on Sandrock's screen. "Are you injured?"  
  
"I'll be fine, but . . .but Duo . . ."  
  
"We'll cover you both. Stay low."  
  
"Thank you, Heero."  
  
Slowly, Sandrock made its way through the thick forest to where the Deathscythe lay among the trees, a deep wound blasted into its shoulder surrounded by burns that still steamed with heat. Resting Sandrock on its hands and knees directly over the Deathscythe, Quatre opened his Gundam's hatch and jumped the length to the other Gundam's chest. He swayed on his feet, his head beating with pain, his vision blotching furiously, but nonetheless staggered toward Deathscythe's hatch.  
  
Quatre thumped the emergency open button and the hatch popped ajar with a mechanical hiss. Inside, Duo lay unconscious, his safety harness broken from strain. The cockpit was suddenly lit by a shower of sparks blown from the wound on Sandrock's shoulder, showing Duo's abnormally grayish face. Quatre hurriedly dropped into the Deathscythe as more threatening sparks rained down.  
  
[[[well, I really am not sure where I'm going with this one, so beware! O_o But chapter 2 will be up . . . . . . .soon, I guess. PLEASE! Review! Thanks!)]]] 


	2. The Syringe

Chapter 2  
  
Two hours later, the forest lay in ruins: pieces of mobile suits resting on the scorched dirt, patches of trees standing in horrified huddles, and wounded soldiers slowly making their ways back to base, or for most, to their graves.  
  
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Now far away from the scenic massacre, four soldiers waited as patiently as possible for any news concerning their friend. As the night rolled on and the pilots had been assured, repeatedly, that their comrade was stabilized, they began to go their own ways: Wufei to bed, but most likely not to sleep; Trowa to the hangar, but most likely not to get any repairs done; Heero to his laptop, but most likely not to type any mission reports.  
  
Yet Quatre remained.  
  
"Excuse me, Doctor," he said, approaching the woman wearing a long white jacket who hovered over Duo's bed, checking his stats.  
  
"Nurse," she muttered, scribbling numbers on a clip board.  
  
"Pardon?"  
  
Finished scribbling, she wheeled around, her blonde curls energetically following a moment behind. "I'm a nurse, not a doctor." Quatre blushed; before, when she had entered the room, he had been quite distracted by the events of the evening to even notice that she was a young woman.  
  
"I apologize," he smiled as best as he could, despite his embarrassment and the occasional throbs of pain at the back of his head. "Would it be alright if I stayed for awhile longer? I know the facility is settling down for the night, but I would . . ."  
  
"Yes, its fine," the nurse broke in, "as long as you take a bed too." Quatre blinked at the woman as she declared her negotiation demand. She shut her eyes and rearranged her thin-framed eye glasses. "Yes, I should think that with an injury to the head as you have received, a night in a hospital bed would do nicely."  
  
Again, Quatre blinked. Maybe his head injury was worse than he thought; he couldn't remember telling anyone in the bustle over Duo's safety about his wound. Nonetheless, he agreed and allowed the gentle handed nurse to properly dress his sore and then lead him to his bed next to Duo's.  
  
Lying awake, blankly staring at the ceiling, Quatre decided to imprint this day into his memories forever. He twisted his head to gaze at the sleeping Duo. Quatre had almost forgotten what he was fighting for, but the near-death of his friend had illuminated the answer for him.  
  
*How could I continue my life of death-dealing if Duo, or any of my fellow Gundam pilots, died while I watched from the cock pit of Sandrock?*  
  
He then thought of the kind, young nurse. *The world also needs caring people like her. How horrible the battle could have grown if it had spread into the city. So many innocent people have already met the unexpected blaze of death when it was not necessary. But what death is necessary?*  
  
Being the sensitive young solider of only sixteen years old(1), Quatre could not control the paradox of his life. Death surrounded him, *engulfed* him, and yet his caring nature stood sturdy and true. But this did not aid to coping with the death, or his part in it.  
  
Finally, after settling on his side, to free his wound from the pillow and to watch Duo, making sure that he still breathed, Quatre slowly fell asleep.  
  
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His head pulsing ferociously, Quatre rolled over on the narrow hospital bed, unconsciously attempting to shun the loud noises that threatened to wake him. For a few moments he thought that he may be able to sleep further, yet more shrill voices and clattering movements forced him into consciousness.  
  
Quatre opened his eyes slowly, being blinded by the awesomely bright lights. Raising his arm to block the harsh hospital lights, he looked toward the obnoxious din that woke him. Surrounding the nearest bed, three figures donning long white coats spoke quickly at each other, handing passing around medical tools and little gizmos Quatre could only guess the uses for.  
  
Suddenly he realized what the scene in front of his eyes was showing.  
  
"Duo!" Quatre started, swiftly leaping off of his bed. He stood for a millisecond before his eyes clouded, his head suffered a strong beat of pain, and he somehow lost his balance. A wrinkled nurse gasped as he collapsed backwards onto the cold tile floor, his back contacting with the chilled metal bars that supported the hospital bed.  
  
"Oh my dear," the aged nurse sighed as she helped Quatre onto his feet. "You should stay in the bed Mister Winner; your head looks pretty bad," she added, checking his bandages. "Who dressed this? Its not in our records that you suffered any injuries or that you were taking a bed for the night . . ."  
  
But Quatre was unconcerned with the nurse's advice and questions. Attempting to view any part of his friend, who still had the nervous attention of the other two hospital personnel, he leaned and stretched over the nurse's shoulder. Again, Quatre attempted to stand, but the nurse, as wrinkled and old as she seemed, pushed him unto the bed without any trouble.  
  
"No, no, sit down," she commanded in a scolding voice."  
  
"But, Duo . . ." he demanded, "Is he alright?" As he asked this, his eyes blurred and a overpowering dizziness came over him. The nurse easily forced his shoulders onto the hard mattress and lifted his legs in place. Without giving any answer to his question or warning before doing so, the nurse extracted a syringe from her coat pocket and shot Quatre with its contents.  
  
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(1) - I guess this is a "what if" world: what if the war had not ended so soon and continued far into the future, so the G-pilots were older at this time. . . plus, I wanted them older, so I may have just cheated ^__^  
  
[[[cringe! man I hate needles! Well, thank you to all that reviewed my first chapter, and I hope you all enjoyed this one too! I think I know what I'm gonna do, so wait a little longer and the third chapter will be up soon and its gonna be interesting. I'll tell you what the heck happened to Duo and it is gonna be so fun! I'm goin to write more right now! (R+R please!)]]] 


	3. Wake to Confusion

Chapter 3  
  
Once again, Quatre found himself being pulled out of his peaceful sleep by coarse noises on the reality side of consciousness. His eyes fluttered open and he blinked the blur out of his sight. A glowing television hanging from the wall attracted his attention; it was the only light shinning in the dark of the apparent night. In the confusion of wakening, Quatre was engrossed with the TV: an Asian woman gave statistics of dead and wounded from a recent battle, then preceded to present footage of the traumatizing event. It was a mobile suit fight. Suddenly the screen flashed off.  
  
"Sorry, didn't mean to wake ya," a croaking voice came from his right.  
  
"Duo?!" Quatre sat up quickly, his wound giving a little jab of pain in protest to the movement.. Yet still, his eyes searched blindly in the darkness. A lamp clicked into life.  
  
"Yo."  
  
Lying in his white sheeted bed, Duo smiled, his skin a nauseous gray hue. Quatre silently praised the gods; he was sure in those few moments that he remained cognizant before the sleeping drug took affect that when he woke, it would be to find Duo stiff with death. Remembering his fall the previous time he endeavored to jump out of bed, Quatre shoved his sheets off and carefully tested his balance. Discovering that his legs were weakened, probably by the drugs, he was forced to crawl on his knees to his friend's side.  
  
Duo looked even worse up close. His eyes were a tad sunken into their sockets and his face no longer paraded happy pinkish cheeks. Quatre kneeled at his bed side and reached between the icy guard rails to take hold of Duo's thin hand.  
  
"What's up with you?" Duo asked, sounding tiredly nonchalant, yet without moving anything but his head, as if the rest of his body were glued down. Quatre smiled.  
  
"Well, I haven't been feeling too well. I was injured in the battle, did you know? This bandage isn't just for show," he explained while Duo gave a weak smile. "Oh yeah," he continued. "I also thought you might have died."  
  
Quatre looked anxiously into Duo's eyes. "What happened? How could you have been so careless in such a fierce engagement? And what was going on this morning? The doctors were frantic, but would not even give me a hint." Duo's face fell hard and for a moment he looked confused.  
  
"Oh, well, they aren't too sure," Duo's purple eyes strayed to the blank television. "They said I must have spass-ed in my sleep and pulled out my blood AND water I.V.s, though I really don't see how the hell I did that." His eyebrows flurried for a moment. "Yeah, Trowa left a note; it said they couldn't stay any longer and were called out for something or other. It's around here somewhere . . ." he trailed off, but Quatre could not care less about the note. They would rendezvous with the rest of the pilots when they both were suited for it, not a moment sooner.  
  
The two boys talked a few minutes longer before they could see the tiredness in each other's eyes. Duo told him to "get off the frickin' cold floor," but Quatre would not move. He pulled the blanket from his bed and sat resting against Duo's bed until he thought Duo had fallen into sleep again. In his vigilance, Quatre himself was next to sleep, until a tired voice croaked from the bed: "Quatre? Do you think you could help me with something?"  
  
His head popped up, immediately awake with his friend's request. "Of course. What do you need?"  
  
"Well, I've been laying on my braid for a few hours and it feels nasty. Do you feel good enough to brush it out?"  
  
Quatre stood up. "Do you feel strong enough to sit?" Duo smiled and slowly raised himself up on his elbows. He stayed there for a moment and sighed.  
  
"I just need a little push, once I'm up I'll be fine."  
  
Quatre felt doubtful, but helped him sit up nonetheless. Sitting behind his friend, Quatre untied and loosened his braid. Conveniently, in the drawer of the side table laid a brush, which he took up and began brushing out the numerous knots and kinks from Duo's long, chestnut brown hair.  
  
The whole time the boys sat in silence, Duo slumped forward with watery eyes, though this was unknown to Quatre.  
  
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Odd as they both may have felt, after Quatre had finished re-braiding Duo's hair, he hadn't the strength (of body or mind) to return to his bed. They agreed that, in this situation, it would not be too weird if they shared a bunk. Narrow and thin as the bed was, they were both mature sixteen year olds and could mentally handle it. Plus, the room grew ever more chilly as the night drug on, and the conservation of body heat is imperative for a healthy recovery.  
  
Lying still awake, Quatre attempted every trick to falling asleep that he had learned as a child, but none worked. Yes, he was tired, but sleep did not reach out in pity to his weary mind. Though the room was dark, Quatre's eyes could still catch the shapes of the furniture and the shine on the glass from the street lights. Thinking of anything to put him to sleep, anything but the warm, slow breathing form beside him, he tested his knowledge of chemicals, striving to identify the smell in the air. It was definitely not a pleasant smell, but not terribly unpleasant either.  
  
While he had been laying in silence, except for the soft noises of air entering and exiting their lungs, the sudden thudding pattern of shoes in the hallway startled him. A light fluttered on out side the swinging doors, and a feminine silhouette appeared in the window. Quatre was suddenly trounced by a wave of embarrassment, sharing a bed with his friend, and he quickly rolled to his side and pretended to be sleep.  
  
The clacking shoes continued into the room and stopped a ways from their bed. Quatre felt the person's eyes burning into him and his face flushed bright pink. *Well, I don't think sleeping people blush. This isn't going to work!* Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked toward the light, imitating a waking person interested in the cause to the end of his sleep.  
  
Remembering her from the night before, Quatre recognized the nurse's long curls cascading down upon her shoulders. Though she wore the same white jacket and thin-framed glasses, the young nurse seemed different from before, as if her feet owned the ground it stood upon. Tonight, she carried a metal tray loaded with two covered, steaming plates and little juice boxes.  
  
"I thought you may be awake, Winner," the nurse smiled, placing the tray on the side table in between Quatre's and Duo's beds.  
  
"Oh well, I was just resting a while. Duo asked me to braid his hair and I was too tired to go back to my. . ." While trying to explain, Quatre's checks reached new shades of pink and red. The nurse smiled.  
  
"Well, do you feel up to eating your dinner?" she interrupted. "You slept right through it and you should eat something." She looked rather anxiously toward Duo. "Both of you."  
  
Seeing that she meant to wake him, Quatre suggested that he sleep longer, assuring her that he could eat breakfast, lunch AND dinner tomorrow. Agreeing, the young nurse removed one of the plates and juice boxes and handed the remaining on the tray to Quatre. He sat on the edge of Duo's bed, still flushed red, with his legs crossed underneath him and carefully uncovered his steaming dinner. After living off of M.R.E.s for weeks while on mission, the plate full of mashed potatoes, green beans and polish sausages made his mouth water. The slender nurse took the waiting seat and watched (to his dismay) Quatre enjoying his dinner.  
  
Halfway through the beans, it occurred to Quatre that he did not know anything about this woman, staring at him as he chewed, least of all her name. She seemed so different from when he had mistook her for a doctor. Before her hair was pinned into a simple bun, now it swayed free and loose and her lips sparkled with pink lip gloss.  
  
He cleared his throat. "Miss, I was just wondering what your name was. I don't think that we had been properly introduced." She continued to stare at him and, if possible, he turned even redder in the face.  
  
"I should check you for a fever, Winner, you look like you may have a temperature." She uncrossed her long legs and stood up. "I'll be right back with a thermometer," she announced and left.  
  
Quatre sat, dumbfounded, with his fork halfway to his mouth. He could not believe the rudeness she had shown toward his inquiry, and why did she call him "Winner?" As he contemplated this, Duo twitched in his sleep. Quatre turned to his friend, who twitched twice more, obliviously beginning to wake. Setting the tray on the side table, Quatre winced as the wound on his head reminded him of its existence.  
  
Duo's eyelids quivered open, and Quatre meet his purple eyes with something of a look of gratitude. Being alone with the strange young nurse in the depth of the night unnerved Quatre; with Duo awake, he would not feel so awkward.  
  
Not understanding the look in Quatre's eyes, Duo smiled tiredly. Quatre noticed that his friend's skin tone had almost returned to normal and his eyes, though displaying exhaustion, were brighter than before.  
  
"Do I smell sausage?" Duo asked, sniffing the air with interest. Quatre laughed. Before he could answer though, the sound of clacking shoes again echoed through the hall way, and the white coated nurse pushed through the doors.  
  
"Hellooo, nurse!" Duo whistled, though still sounding half asleep.  
  
The nurse smiled good-naturedly. "Its good to see you are back to yourself, Maxwell." Duo raised his eyebrows confusedly. Worried that struggling to 'figure out' the nurse's personality and intentions would cause Duo's health to regress, Quatre inwardly wished that she soon would leave. But that did not seem likely.  
  
"Well, since you are awake, you should eat dinner. It should still be warm," She clacked her shoes across the floor to retrieve the other plate and juice and clacked back to present it to Duo, who cautiously sat up to greet her. He took the plate and, forgetting the nurse's dubious nature, hurriedly removed the cover.  
  
"It IS sausage!"  
  
While Duo ate his dinner as fast as he could in his state, the nurse approached Quatre, eyeing his head wrap. She reached behind his head, unfastening the metal hooks, and presenting her chest a little too close to his face. Again, Quatre blushed, and looked away, noticing Duo giving him a gray-fingered thumbs up.  
  
"Well, your head wound will be healed soon. Are you experiencing sudden head aches? Of course. I'll issue you some aspirin, but you should stay another night in the hospital. Perhaps this time in your own bed." Quatre wished that he would instantly pass out; his entire face glowed red.  
  
"Hey," Duo retorted. "You are just jealous that you wouldn't fit in this bed too."  
  
*Duo! You are so crude sometimes!* Quatre thought, his face smoldering with humiliation.  
  
The nurse smiled, closed her eyes, lowered her head, and adjusted her glasses. "My name," she suddenly announced, opening her eyes, "is Claire." Leaving the boys in utter confusion, she left, her shoes clacking down the hall.  
  
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[[[well well well . . . this is interesting (I guess) Yeah I threw in a  
little homosexual tension, hope no one was offended . . .cause there is  
gonna be lots more!!! Ha aha ha! See ya after chapter 4!]]] 


	4. After Hours

Chapter 4  
  
Quatre and Duo exchanged bewildered stares. They agreed that, while she was rather attractive, the nurse, Claire, was an intriguing character. Quatre explained to Duo about when he first met the nurse and how she seemed changed. After discussing the matter further, in which Duo brought up the theory that she *may* belong to the enemy, they decided that spy or not, she needed to be surveyed carefully.  
  
With exhaustion plainly visible in both sets of eyes, the boys settled to sleep longer while it was still dark, though one could see light pink rays creeping through the window. Awkwardly, Quatre journeyed back into his own bed and the two said swift goodnights as he clicked off the lamp.  
  
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Three days later, the young soldiers remained at the hospital. Quatre was free to return to action when he pleased, but without his fellow pilot, he would never be so. No word had come from Trowa or the others, or even from mission control, so the boys assumed that after such a great battle, both sides were sitting in much needed repose. Also, they had not seen the nurse Claire since, but other nurses that attended Duo confirmed that she was an employee of the hospital.  
  
So, reluctantly leaving Duo to fend for himself if Claire returned, Quatre rented a hotel room close to the hospital and visited his friend daily.  
  
While traversing the five blocks from his temporary home to the hospital, Quatre watched the yellowing leaves sway in the gentle wind of the cool evening. Carefully, he expressed to the gods his thanks for this lucky time of peace, though making it clear that harming his friend was a dubious way of awarding it to him.  
  
Now familiar with the straightest path to Duo's ward, Quatre walked between healing patients, wounded and sick new comers, and busy medical personnel on his way up. Though he new that visiting hours were coming to a close, Quatre was determined never to spend a day without conferencing with his healing friend.  
  
He pushed open the swinging doors to Duo's room, which only he occupied now that Quatre left behind the other bed. He was surprised to see Deathscythe's pilot sitting in the chair across from his bed reading a book.  
  
"Duo!" Quatre teased, startling Duo out of his book. "Are you alright? You . . .you're reading!"  
  
"Ha ha, very funny, Q-man," he sneered, laying the book down. "Don't think this is going to be a common occurrence either: its for my immense boredom syndrome the doctor said I was suffering from." He turned his head away in a matter-of-fact manner.  
  
"Well, you are looking much better though," Quatre noticed. "And you are sitting up on your own." The boys talked lightly for about an hour, the sun slowly sinking behind the city buildings and under the earth. Visiting hours ended, though neither the boys or the hospital staff took notice of Quatre skirting around the rules. After another hour or two of light chit- chat, which had been common when Quatre visited lately, he sagaciously decided to relieve them both of the topic which hung over their heads.  
  
"Duo," he whispered during a long, awkward pause in the conversation, "what happened in the battle?"  
  
Though he was sure that Duo didn't mean for him to see, Quatre glanced at his friend, seeing him jerk at the question.  
  
"I was just careless," he explained, looking away again, this time with a look of uneasiness. "I was . . .distracted."  
  
*It's not easy to distract a Gundam pilot like that,* Quatre thought. "Hmm. I asked you yesterday how your injury was doing, and you brushed my question away, as you often have been doing lately. Duo," he pleaded, kneeing down to Duo's level as his friend avoided his eyes, "if you need . . .well, anything . . .I'm right here."  
  
"Its difficult." Duo said between his teeth, still not meeting Quatre's eyes. "But its also not that big a deal." Hearing his best friend try to convince him that his feeling were 'not a big deal' crushed Quatre's spirit, and he determined to assist his friend in any way needed.  
  
"Duo . . ."  
  
"You've always been so kind to me, Quatre, so kind to everyone." Quatre waited for more; he could feel it about to spill out of Duo in a moment, but his visible anxiety seemed to frighten it back into Duo's stomach. To assert his position as a best friend, Quatre shuffled his knees to place himself right in front of his troubled companion.  
  
"Its okay, Duo," he swore.  
  
"Ugg! You are not making this any easier. This is frickin' nuts!" Duo muttered, though Quatre was close enough to his face that he could hear anything. Examining his friend's slightly discolored skin, Quatre suddenly caught a glimpse of a tapered black bruise peeking over Duo's neck line.  
  
"What is that, Duo?!" Quatre asked, pulling on the collar to his friend's white, buttoned hospital pajamas. Seeing the bruise continue further down his chest, Quatre looked from Duo's face to the mark, and instinctly began unbuttoning the shirt. Duo squirmed upward, trying to escape from the invasion into his clothes, but Quatre worked the buttons too fast. Throwing open the shirt, Quatre gasped as he beheld two almost identical long, black bruises running diagonal from his collar bones to his stomach.  
  
"Deathscythe's harness," Quatre guessed, running his cold fingers down his friend's wounds. He winced in respect to the understandable pain they must have caused.  
  
Quatre could feel the tears gathering in his eyes, and couldn't compel himself to look at Duo any longer. Rarely anymore had Quatre allowed himself to cry in front of his teammates, unwilling to deteriorate their spirits, but now it became uncontrollable, and he released a dry sob.  
  
"No, don't do that," came Duo's soft, yet hurried voice. "I'm fine, Quatre, really. It looks worse than it feels and the doctor said nothing was hurt inside. Well, not too badly." Quatre forced his tears down as Duo's hand raised his head. "I'm fine, . . . as long as I got a friend by me." Duo's smile reassured him that this statement had nothing but truth in it. Quatre waited on his knees, staring into Duo's vivid purple eyes. He knew that his friend could see his thoughts through his expression, and was comforted further as Duo began stroking his blonde hair behind his ears.  
  
"You know, Q-man," Duo said, clearly trying to lighten the mood, "I never understood why you didn't ever have a girlfriend. You're a sexy beast. Who wouldn't want you?"  
  
Quatre laughed. Normally, he would have felt a tad uneasy, but currently, he and Duo were alone: the other pilots, the Maganacs, the Doctors, all of them far off, they did not even have a lap top or anything that someone could try to reach them on.  
  
"Really?" he asked, raising his thin, blonde eyebrows.  
  
"Really."  
  
"Well, I guess that counts as a compliment." Quatre's face flushed a little; he placed his hands on his friend's knees and rested his forehead on his hands. He felt Duo's fingers running gently through his silky hair, smoothing it one way, then another. Abruptly, Duo sighed, sounding resolute, and lifted Quatre's face upward again. Quatre blinked his aqua eyes, unsteady under Duo's brave gaze. Feeling uneasy, because his instincts and long friendship with Duo answered all guesses for him as to what his friend was thinking, Quatre unhitched his chin from Duo's cupped hand. He stared at Duo's white pants, and began studying the wrinkles with his fingers.  
  
"You act so coy," Duo announced through quick smile. Moments passed, but neither boys spoke. Still leaning on his friend's knees, Quatre felt Duo slump slightly in his chair and the mood of the room shift with him.  
  
"You should probably get back to your hotel." (1)  
  
Quatre's heart seemed to contract twice as hard as Duo finished the statement. He knelt in front of his friend, aghast at the idea that Duo wanted him to leave. *What?* his mind reeled, *Why does he think I should go? I was almost getting the feeling that he had been flirting with me! Though, I don't think he himself knows if he was or not. Well, if he won't decide for himself* Quatre thought, a smile glistening on his fair skin, *I'll have to for him.*  
  
"No," he replied quietly, his eyes shaded by the bangs hanging loosely in front of his bent head. "I want to stay."  
  
Not exactly sure why, Quatre began leisurely sliding his hands up Duo's legs, which twitched slightly at the touch. He looked up at his friend, who stared back with a look of surprise and the start of a smile. Quatre smiled wildly, an obnoxiously seductive look usurping his usual passive expression.  
  
As if they moved together, the boys slowly leaned toward each other. Quatre's fingers, snaking from the inside of Duo's thighs and out again, trekked toward the single white button that held his pants in position. As his hands reached the hips and found the top of the white slacks, Quatre shut his eyes, preparing for his first kiss. He cold feel Duo's tantalizing breath close to his mouth, winding between each nerve ending on Quatre's lips.  
  
Frighteningly sudden, the door to the room was flung open, the shock of which threw Quatre backwards onto the cold, tiled floor. A million thoughts rushed through his mind at once. He sat panting as his heart raced, and looked toward the interloper: a young, curly haired woman in a white lab coat taking in the scene she interrupted with a look of disinterest and minor surprise.  
  
"I believe, Winner," Claire said, her red lips curling into a smile, "that visiting hours are over."  
  
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(1)- okay, before I wrote this part, I couldn't think of what to write. I thought "What would *I* do if I had a hot guy's head on my knees with such obvious sexual tension in the room? Yeah, that'd be me alright! I'd tell him to *go home*! Stupid nervousness around boys I like . . .::growl!::  
  
[[[is this getting too long for anyone? Sorry if it is . . . but it's not for me! I love writing fan fics! Gosh I gotta calm down . . .seriously though, I think I have an ending coming up somewhere, in which everyone gets what they deserve and mysteries are uncovered! Yah! ^__^ I need more sleep. . . since I started this fic, I've lost about 1/3 of my usual sleep time! Not really. PLEASE: review and all that jazz and maybe, just maybe, I'll find some time to draw a pic about my story . . .hmm, what scene should it be of? (^__^) ]]] 


	5. An Apology and a Warning

Chapter 5  
  
Quatre was completely stunned. His heart was still pounding, as if it wanted to leap out of his chest and runaway from the woman. Uncomfortable under Claire's obnoxiously calm gaze, he looked toward Duo for some support.  
  
When he glanced at his friend, he saw that Shigami did not wear a face of surprise as he had expected, but a expression livid with anger.  
  
"God damnit, woman!" the young pilot cursed. "Don't you know how to frickin' knock?!" Quatre watched, glued to the tiled floor, as Duo heaved with fury, each breathe obviously a pain to the poor wounded soldier. Regardless, Duo continued to rant at the nurse. "I know you did that on purpose too! Why the hell do you keep pestering us like this? Would it kill you to be more professional, you freaky little witch?!"  
  
Totally taken aback, Quatre nervously glanced from Duo to Claire, whose face fell at the last angry question. She uncrossed her arms and ruefully took a step backwards.  
  
"I apologize," she announced, sounding oddly sincere.  
  
Quatre was not sure which event had shocked him more: Claire bursting into the room, interrupting their intimate moment, or Claire apologizing for doing it. This time, however, Duo shared in the honest surprise.  
  
"Visiting hours are over though, Winner," she announced, regaining her usual superior and nonchalant attitude. Spinning around on her heal, which caused her curls to bounce vigorously behind her, she continued, "You can visit again tomorrow." She exited the room as swiftly as she had entered.  
  
Again, the boys were left in awe of the strange woman. After silent moments of the boys both staring at the swinging doors, Quatre forced his arms to unglue themselves from the bitter cold tile. He swayed as he reached his feet and awkwardly stepped to Duo's chair.  
  
"I guess I really should leave. . ." he said, sounding as if he questioned the sagacity of leaving Duo where the odd nurse could openly visit him again. But Duo did not argue; he simply nodded and raised his arm for Quatre to hook his shoulder under. Lifting his friend off the chair and carrying him to his bed, Quatre wondered if it would be safer to leave the wounded boy with the door jammed shut somehow. He expressed his idea to Duo.  
  
"No," Duo replied, rolling over to face the white wall, his shirt still unbuttoned, "I can take care of myself." He did not sound spiteful or sarcastic when he said this, but as it were a fact.  
  
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Quatre decided, whether it were for the best or not, to leave, but also to check on his friend as soon as possible the next day. He traversed the darkened hospital halls, apologized to the weary eyed receptionist and wished him a good night as he followed the pilot outside and locked the doors behind them. The night chilled with every breeze in the air, and the blonde was forced to zip his long coat and retie his scarf around his neck before he began his journey.  
  
With too many diverse thoughts roaming his head, Quatre roamed the streets back to his hotel. Unlike his feet though, which knew the path well now, his thoughts changed direct often. *I just am not sure how to interpret this Claire,* one of his thoughts began. *She seemed so, well, like me the first time we meet, brief as it was. Now she seems malicious and takes joy in alienating me. How dare she tease me about sleeping in my own bed! And interrupting us like that!* He turned the corner of the empty street, though it was an involuntary act: his mind was still wondering the world.  
  
*Well, interrupting us might not have been such a bad idea . . .really, I don't know what I was thinking . . .Duo is my friend. We could alienate are selves, from society or from each other. I do love him, but in what way? What if our relationship turned negative and we couldn't bare to be around each other anymore? What if our relationship grew?! We definitely wouldn't be able to contain it and the other Gundam pilots would infer our relationship sooner or later. I don't think they would take open homosexuality very well. What would I know though? I haven't heard from the others in what seems like years!*  
  
Exactly on cue to his thought, Quatre felt his forgotten cell phone vibrate violently in his coat. Recovering from the shock of the sudden tremor, Quatre twitched the phone out of the pocket and flipped it open.  
  
"Hello?" he answered, almost nervously.  
  
"Quatre." the voice on the other side demanded.  
  
"Heero!" Sweet relief (from what he was not sure) swept over him. "It's so good to hear from you! I hope you all are well?"  
  
"Yes. Are you with Duo?" Heero was usually brief and direct, and Quatre felt his heart pummel when he immediately changed the subject to pilot 02. (1)  
  
"No, I just left the hospital. Why?"  
  
"Return immediately. We just intercepted an enemy transmission. He's a target. A spy is attacking tonight." Directly, Quatre's mind zoomed to a thought of the insane nurse menacingly standing over the helpless form of the sleeping Duo, her red painted lips curling into a gruesome smile.  
  
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(1)- yes, yes. I know this scene is almost exactly like the one in Blind Target, where Heero asks Duo if Quatre is with him. It was meant to be so!  
  
[[[so do you think you know what is gonna happen? Really? Cuz I don't even really know! I'm finding the problems in writing a story w/o a predetermined plot line to be frustrating! This story could have been sooooo much better if I had planned ahead! I may go back and fix things . . . Curse my incompetent writing skillz! Well, anyway, stay tuned in! Chapter 6 will be up ASAP!]]] 


	6. Dance of the Scalpel

Chapter 6  
  
Forgetting any thank-yous or good-byes, Quatre snapped the phone together and disappeared down the dark path he had just trodden. In a journey that at most took five minutes, though it felt to Quatre like an eternity, he found himself outside the bolted hospital doors. True, there were still hospital personnel lingering inside and welcoming doors waiting around the institution, but he could not risk being seen by anyone who might be associated with the enemy and the plan to wreak havoc on the pilots' lives. Wishing that he had not fallen into a false mood of security in the past few days, he cursed laudably when he remembered that he was unarmed. He soon spotted a small basement window, which forced him to dessert his coat and scarf on the lawn in order to trespass its barrier.  
  
Finding himself in a dark, unknown section of the building, a kitchen by the looks of it, Quatre allowed his worried and nearly frantic instincts to lead him through the dimly lit hallways until he found a recognizable hall. All seemed abandoned in the dark night in the 'extended stay' wing.  
  
Finally, he discovered the familiar swinging doors that covered Duo's room. Terrified of what scene he may open them to find, Quatre drove himself to continue with out a pause or hesitation into the chamber.  
  
Though the rest of the room was plastered in shadows, Duo's soundly sleeping figure was illuminated by a single shallow lamp that Quatre had purposefully left lit.  
  
*Praise the gods!* Quatre inwardly exclaimed, about collapsing with relief. His pale blonde bangs were wet with nervous sweat, and he thrust them backward as he jostled his feet to his friend's bed. *My poor Duo!* He sat on the empty edge of the bed, and lifted the sleeping boy's long chestnut bangs off his eyes to unveil his resting eyes glistening with forgotten tears. *Did I leave you in such depression that you would cry in your sleep? No matter, my dear friend, I won't leave again.*  
  
Quatre bent his head and laid a soft kiss on Duo's temple. The touch must have rendered in his tired mind; his eyes fluttered quickly.  
  
"Don't haunt me tonight, asshole," Duo muttered, squeezing his eyes closed and shunning the surprised Quatre. "I'm not in the mood for your beauty."  
  
"Duo?" His eyes jerked open and he blinked wildly, trying to rid his sight of the effect of sleep. Finally his vision focused on the blonde.  
  
"Quatre, you . . .you're real."  
  
The young boy could not continue to hold himself back. He nearly fell on top of Duo's chest and without any uncertainty, dropped his lips unto his friend's. For a moment, Duo did not react, and Quatre feared that he had scared him to death in his broken state. But his lips soon joined into the action, and the two boys were locked together. With his eyes shut in passion, Quatre opened his lips to release his tongue, which yearned to taste more of the chasm of his friend's mouth. Duo, following lead, did the same and raised his torso off the bed to press their bodies as close as possible. Thankful that his friend had not taken the time to re-button his shirt, Quatre allowed his hands to caress his friend's softly defined chest, careful not to disturb the bruises.  
  
Duo fell back unto the bed, halfway pushed by Quatre's ardor. The blonde could feel Duo's smooth fingers falling down his side to find the edge of his pink, tucked in shirt, which his friend preceded to un-tuck. Pausing in his hands' wanderings across the hills which made Duo's body so extremely attractive, Quatre frustratingly fondled each of his buttons loose and broke their passionate engagement to rid himself of the shirt, his purple vest carried with it. He tossed the bundle on the other bed, and, though amazingly eager to return to Duo, stopped.  
  
Quatre could feel Duo's heat rising, longing to embrace his friend's naked torso, but his attention was caught by a thin figure standing at the edge of the lamp's light. A shine appeared on the red lips of the figure as it smiled.  
  
"So sorry to interrupt you boys again," came Claire's slurred voice, "but Maxwell has an appointment that he must not miss."  
  
More than caught off guard, Quatre was frozen to the bed. Duo twitched onto his elbows.  
  
The figure presented a long bladed scalpel from behind her back. For a moment she allowed it to shine with the reflection of the dim light, then flipped it into her fist like a weapon. Her feet took off and she charged at the braided pilot. (1)  
  
All in a moment, Duo winced as he was pushed off of the bed and landed on the hard tile; the crazed nurse had let her attack go a millisecond too late, and her weapon was steered away by an interloping shoulder; Quatre's face was lead by the force of the scalpel, its path plunging into the skin of his pale shoulder and just grazing his fair cheek.  
  
Angry red blood, flung from the wound on his shoulder, splattered Quatre's face, and mixed with the leaking blood from his scratched cheek.  
  
This all happened within a instant. The moment, however, seemed to freeze in time.  
  
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Quatre's mind snapped into a self defense/extensive training/soldier mode. His elbow involuntarily bashed into Claire's nose, throwing her limp body away from the bed and her broken glasses across the room.  
  
"Holy f*ck," the injured voice of Duo came from the floor. "What the hell . . ?"  
  
"She's with the enemy, Duo. You're scheduled as their target tonight." Quatre winced, holding his gushing shoulder wound. He glanced over the side of the bed. "Are you alright?"  
  
"F*ck no," the braided boy replied, and by the pained expression on his face, that was an understatement. He laid half on his side cringing in agony. Quatre noticed his friend's face had fallen to a pale gray tint again, but his soldier's mind merely registered this as a sign that Duo could not fight and would need protection.  
  
His attention was brought back to Claire as she grunted to her wobbly feet. She seemed animal-like as she bared her teeth and, with blood streaming down her lips from her nose, started again with the scalpel ready. This time, however, Quatre was prepared. He spun to his back, and met the malicious assault by kicking it sideways. Claire stumbled between the two hospital beds and Quatre took advantage of this to retaliate. He caught her thin form and pressed it onto the clean bed that she had once assigned to him. Glistening blood dripped from his shoulder onto the thrashing and already bloody face of his attacker.  
  
Quatre hesitated, his arm poised for a punch for Claire's face, and watched as her glazed eyes shifted without focusing.  
  
"She's been drugged!" he exclaimed, pinching her fidgeting arms to the bed.  
  
"What?"  
  
Quatre ventured a quick glance behind him and caught his friend reaching painfully to his knees. The braided boy was reaching under the red speckled pillow. Before he could see what he was finding, Claire's chest bucked and almost threw him off.  
  
"Her eyes are unnaturally glazed, Duo! She's been drugged," Quatre's mind flitted back to the evening he had first met the nurse, the kind and caring version of her. *Has she been drugged this entire time?* He instinctly knocked the blade out of Claire's hand between thoughts. *To drug her like this, the person giving orders to her dejected mind must stay close to her*  
  
As if cued by this thought, the doors swung wide open. Quatre twisted his head, though still pinning the drugged woman down with his bare chest, and met a hateful glare on a wrinkled face.  
  
"Good God! Kids these days just can't murder people like professionals anymore!" the old nurse spitefully complained, directing the barrel of a gun to Quatre's back. He noticed that today she sported a blue kerchief about her neck, a yellow OZ emblem embroidered in the corner.  
  
Even the soldier mode of Quatre's mind did not know how to react. First his enemy had been a youthful beauty that at one point in time was a sympathetic person; now it shifted to a woman that once reminded him of a stereotypical grandmother with short, curly by force, white hair. The 'grandmotherly' woman now had a fiercely wild expression, and held the gun steady, as if her hands were more used to holding it than holding kitting needles or grandchildren.  
  
Though stunned by the turn of events, the situation made some sense to the blonde. *What a clue I missed!* he cursed at himself. *What real nurse stores prepared syringes in her jacket pocket?! Shit! I have to move!* He stared down the shinning barrel of the pistol. *I'm fast enough to pull this psycho girl in front of me as a shield . . .* his mind was caught on the thought * . . .but she's an innocent, pulled into this mess by the enemy! Damnit!* Before he could make any move though, the aged Oz associate pulled him away from his thoughts.  
  
"Don't move, Winner!" she demanded. "I'd rather kill both you and that little slut at the same time!"  
  
Quatre turned back to scrutinize the blurred, blue eyes that held no understanding of the danger their owner was in. The click of a gun being cocked rung in his ears. Tension hung in the air and the moment consciously froze in time inside Quatre's mind. There was nothing for him to do: he could not flee and leave Claire to take the full of the bullet, but neither could he allow himself to be murdered when both Claire and Duo were in no shape to protect themselves.  
  
*No! My Duo . . . !*  
  
But time was up; Quatre's future was chosen for him. The blast of a bullet charging down its barrel lingered in the small, dimly lit hospital dorm.  
  
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In a few minutes, the echoing shot directed the night shift of the hospital to Duo's room, though the boy and his companion were not to be found within. All that the scared, yet interested employees found were the body of their fellow worker slumped against the wall, her right eye now a wide hole oozing thick, red blood, and the enraged and delirious young nurse fighting against a firmly secured pink shirt holding her wrists to the silver bars that supported the beds.  
  
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After nearly escaping death, with the aid of Duo's perfectly hidden personal handgun, the two boys shuffled quietly down the peaceful, empty streets of the dark city. Duo in a thin, cheap set of general hospital pajamas, and Quatre in nothing but his kaki slacks, the boys were forced to share Quatre's retrieved coat the entire journey to the hotel. His expensive scarf soaked up the raging flow of blood from his shoulder and eventually helped to pressurize it into calming down.  
  
Upon reaching the hotel room, the pilots felt it best to first dress their wounds properly, then make contact with their fellow pilots, were would be eager to hear from both of them. Quatre yanked his first aid kit out of his duffle bag and opened it. A small pistol lay on top, which he threw onto his pillow before taking the gauze and anti-septic out of the metal case. While Duo, with soft, careful fingers, dressed his shoulder, Quatre flipped open his cell phone.  
  
"Hello."  
  
"Trowa! It's Quatre!"  
  
"Oh? How are you?"  
  
The two friends shared the excitement of the night's adventure, Quatre of course leaving out a few minor details, such as what Duo and he were doing when Claire appeared that night. Trowa, in turn, updated the blonde on happenings of the enemy's movements.  
  
As he clapped the phone shut, after expressing his thanks to Heero and the others for the incredibly helpful information, Quatre turned towards Duo, who laid on his back on the single hotel bed, his shirt undone.  
  
"We have orders to return to the hangar to retrieve our Gundams; we rendezvous tomorrow afternoon," he said, giving his friend a distraught gaze.  
  
"Well, then," Duo replied, his infamous grin of mischief appearing on his face, "as this is our last day of the closest thing we get to a vacation, we'll have to enjoy ourselves tonight in celebration."  
  
"Yes," the young blonde agreed, crawling across the bed to straddle his knees on either side of the purple-eyed boy's waist, "we will."  
  
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THE END of "The Hospital Room," by Ana Mei  
  
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(1)- uggg, I REALLY don't like syringes either! They creep me out! But what else would be better for a nurse to use to kill someone? Sorry, stupid footnote . . .continue reading, plez.  
  
[[[whoosh! I'm done! What do you think, did ya like it? I don't know, I really am peeved at the little mistakes in the plot 'n stuph, but what am I gonna do? I find that when I have something planned out, like when I planned out the conclusion, its harder to write than when I just sit down and say, oh that would be cool! I wind up leaving huge spaces filled with "So this happens! I can't word it right now!" and so that's why the conclusion was choppy, least I thought it was.  
  
Anyways, I started that drawing that I promised! Wahoo! I don't know when I'll have it finished or uploaded on my sight, but I'll do it soon and post the address on the first chapter when its done!  
  
Thank you all who stuck with this long-winded story! I know, I'm quite the tease: ending almost every chapter in confusion or suspense; having sexy scenes interrupted! As to that . . .well I was thinking about writing an "adults only" epilogue, giving some detail to their night in the hotel, but I'm not sure. . .the hospital bed was such a cooler scene than a stupid hotel bed. Anyone can screw around in a hotel room! OMG, I'm so sorry, I did NOT mean to say such blatantly sexual things! I'm so embarrassed of myself! I'm leaving now, thanks again!  
  
and Claire, the commenter, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to steal your name or anything, I wrote the nurse's name the day before I read your comment and was like "oh, that's weird!" So hey! You can think of yourself as a guest star in my fic! As the part of a deranged, sexy nurse . . .O_o like I said, I'm so sorry!]]] 


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